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Visa Shanmugam

I've Never Even Done a 5k

By 29029 Everesting

November 12^th, 2021

I’m not really into the whole fitness world. I’ve never run a 5k. Never run a 10k. I never want to, and I don’t think I ever will. But I found myself called to participate in 29029… This is my story.

I first heard about 29029 in 2018. I was working with a business coach at the time who had done a 29029 event. She shared a link to a blog she had written about her experience at the event, and I remember clicking on that link and being absolutely riveted as I read her post. She wrote about pushing herself to the edge to find out how far she could go.

I am a business owner, and business is really about pushing yourself and your business to the very edge of what you think is possible - a lot of comparisons to the experience blogged about from 29029. I think that’s what drew me to it - it was the same kind of pushing done in business, but it was personal - in a physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional way.

I wanted something to shake up my life like that

Right after reading her post, I found myself on the 29029 website. My intuition was speaking to me louder and clearer than it had ever done before. From deep inside, I felt the call to sign up.

So I did.

When I told my parents what I signed up for, they thought I was crazy! My husband and kids were supportive of course, but they didn’t understand it either. How could they? I was the one who felt the call to do it, and even I didn’t understand what I was in for!

When I first showed up in Vermont - arriving at the bottom of the gondola - looking up the mountain, my first thought was a whole lot of expletives.

I felt complete intimidation. The steepness of the mountain took my breath away. The route towered over me, and I felt myself shrinking. Mentally and physically, I didn’t feel prepared. How on earth would I climb this a single time, let alone 17?

I wanted that Red Hat, but now that I saw the mountain in real life, I didn’t know if I could get it. My biggest fear was that I would start, and then find out I didn’t have what it took to make it to the summit. What if I couldn’t even finish a single climb? The negative mental chatter was very loud even before I set foot on the mountain.

I started.

It was steep. It was challenging. But I climbed the mountain. The first ascent was done.

On the 2nd ascent, I started getting a dull pain in my hip. I didn’t think much of it. I told myself it was going to go away. My knees had often hurt during training, and that pain always went away after awhile. Why would my hip pain be any different?

But it progressively got worse and worse.

After my 4th ascent, my hips were screaming at me to stop. I could barely walk! I went to the recovery room to get treated. All I could think about was that I was falling behind.

The treatment was painful, but more bothersome to me was the clock, still ticking. Even this early on, I felt the pressure of running out of time.

I was sore. I was tired. I was in pain. I wanted to quit. I was honestly inches away from throwing in the towel.

Then one of the coaches came by, and he said, “If you don’t get back out on the mountain, it’s just going to keep getting harder.”

I know it came from him wanting to help, but I wanted to punch him in the face! Of course I knew I had to get back out on the mountain, that was obvious. I just didn’t think that I could make it to the finish anymore. It felt like the Red Hat was slipping out of my grasp so early into the day.

In serious pain, I finally started my 5th ascent. Each step was excruciating! When I made it to the first aid station, I broke down. I threw my hiking poles to the ground and collapsed into uncontrollable sobs. My emotions were out there for everyone to see, mid-breakdown. But nobody gave it a second look - I got the space I needed to go through whatever it was that I was going through.

In hindsight, it was a tipping point for me. I needed to feel and process what was going on in my body through that breaking point. After that, I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, grabbed my hiking poles, and stood up.

One step at a time.

The strategy they tell you - what Jesse and Colin and all the coaches tell you - is to focus on one step at a time. That was all that kept me going on that 5th ascent.

Near the top, I saw Coach Dawn. She asked me what I was feeling.

My reply? I don’t remember exactly, but I do know it was some sort of self-affirmation - something like “I’m strong and capable.” I said it because that’s what was taught to us during the pre-event speeches - staying positive.

But Dawn saw right through me. “No, what are you really feeling?”

I almost broke down again, “This is so hard!”

“That’s fine. It can be hard, and you can keep going,” she replied.

Something about that flicked a switch in my brain. I was expecting this to be easy so I could complete it. But it can be hard, and I can still finish. It was a very simple mindset shift.

I’m going to hike until I see the sunset. Then I’m going to hike until I see the sunrise.

Not long after that fateful ascent, I realized if I wanted to finish, I couldn’t stop at night. I would have to go straight through. There was no time for sleep at the pace I was going.

Somebody on the slopes asked me what my strategy was shortly after I’d realized sleep was not an option for me. I paused, and then replied, “I’m going to hike until I see the sunset. Then I’m going to hike until I see the sunrise. Then I’m going to keep hiking.”

There was something peaceful about hiking at night. It was just the sound of my poles striking the ground and my boots pushing off the mucky Vermont soil, step after step.

The small tunnel of light thrown from my headlamp cut through the fog, narrowing the world around me to just what I could see a few feet ahead of me. I couldn’t see the top and couldn’t see the others making their ascents. Without the distractions of daylight, I found myself in flow. I didn’t feel any resistance to keep going.

I talked to the Universe a lot during the event - especially at night - asking for guidance from above. Around 2 am, I got to the first aid station just as the heavens opened with the first mountainous storm. I waited it out - about 15 minutes - and prayed. I prayed for the weather to hold off for the night. And it did.

In the morning, the same thing happened - an absolute downpour! Thankfully, I was only a few minutes from the first aid station again. I braved the storm for the few minutes it took me to find shelter, and then waited it out. The Universe was on my side.

Confidence?

When did I feel confident I was going to finish? I wouldn’t say never, but it was never consistent. At one point, I thought wow, I’m on my 13th one - this might actually be doable, and then doubt would creep back in as time kept running out. I just didn’t know if I’d have enough time.

On ascent 15, I didn’t even have the brain power to do the math on how much time I had left - I was so tired! I knew I didn’t want to be in the position of having to rush the last lap, but I couldn’t muster the effort to figure out if that would be the case.

I started my 17th ascent with 2.5 hours to go. Even in my over-tired, brain-fog state, I could do that math! I felt confident again - 2.5 hours to do a single ascent was definitely doable. I wouldn’t even have to rush!

Then, I ran into Coach Dawn. She told me a lightning storm was coming and that they might have to close the mountain.

“Close the mountain?” I asked her, “What does that even mean?”

“We’re not going to think about that. You’re just going to pick up your pace and you’re going to get to the top,” she replied.

This was exactly what I didn’t want! I’d come so far, but I still had to worry about not finishing.

After a hurried effort up the hill, I finally made it. When I was able to set foot on the Red Carpet, I broke down. In between tears, I thought of how awe-inspiring every single moment of this had been. I had dug down deeper into my reserves than I’d ever thought possible. I emptied my tank, and achieved something amazing along the way. I had proved to myself that I was capable.

Lessons.

29029 was so out of character for me. Like I said, I’ve never ran a 5k. But along the way to that Red Hat, I covered 22.4 miles. That’s like doing seven 5k’s. In a row. Back-to-back-to-back. Oh, and climbing 29,029 vertical feet along the way!

Completing something like that taught me a lot about myself. I learned plenty during those 36 hours on the mountain. Here are three that stood out:

1 - There were still seeds of doubt inside me.

I always felt that I have no shortage of self-confidence, but tackling 29029 made me realize there are still a few seeds of doubt that can surface from deep down inside. Completing 29029 proved to me that those seeds of doubt are not real - I can conquer them!

2 - The importance of being true to yourself

Somebody on the mountain told me I was more inspiring than the athletes who were finishing in less than 24 hours. I had been judging myself for not being as fit as, not being as strong as, and not being as fast as the others on the slopes.

But after hearing that my story was inspiring, I realized I just needed to be my truest version of myself. I realized that I was comparing myself to others on the mountain, and it didn’t make me happy. It’s liberating to be true to yourself - no faking, no following, just being your 100% authentic self is a key to happiness.

3 - The power of a single step

We’ve all heard some version of this - break big things down into little things to achieve something amazing. But, sometimes you need a real-world example to drive the point home.

When I looked at the mountain it was so big and so intimidating. I didn’t even want to start. But by just focusing on the next step - by just chipping away - I managed to get somewhere I never thought I’d be able to. All by focusing on a single step at a time.